#28
I’ve had quite the Dickinsonian year, except that she seemed content in her circumstances, and I, for the most part, was not. Uncomfortable shades of emotion and intention have revealed themselves, and I carry stupefying amounts of shame that will be sifted through. And yet there’s hope, as sensitive as teeth and relentless as “the thing with feathers.” Cynicism casts a mean shadow and really feels like death to me, and all I want is to be open to surprise and delight.
I keep returning to this “jittery, overthinking place where you’re always trying to DECIDE SOMETHING” as though setting rules in a dramatic way, effective immediately, will fix everything. And then I think of Ashbery’s lines “[…] the longest way is the most efficient way, / the one that looped among islands […].” I like this looping among islands, this “traveling in a circle,” this retracing of paths back to myself.
Mary Gaitskill says in this interview that in order to write, “you have to have a pretty healthy idea of yourself. You’re writing your vision of the world with the notion that how you view things matters, and you want other people to see it too.” More than anything else, I am aware of how assertive the act of writing is, and how much courage it requires. Earlier I could write freely, let the mind wander, and make up terrible metaphors. Now a hundred voices warn me against irrelevant, dishonest, insincere ideas. I’m uncertain about a lot of things—where I stand regarding the personal essay, or what this newsletter purports to do—but for now the aim in writing, whether creative or critical, is to be honest to myself. Feeling quite seen (attacked) by this tweet:
Finally, some things I have adored lately: Aftersun (2022) which is tendermost and beautiful and heartbreaking, this behind the scenes footage from the movie, and the following painting by Oliver Scarlin from his exhibit Be Still My Heart: